"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

Top hats, tails, and pleather
8:37 a.m. on 2004-10-12

I have mixed feelings on the subject of students.

There are days that I love the fact that I work in a university, and am therefore surrounded by them for, well, at least thirty weeks out of the year. Not least because English students are frequently very cute. Slender, nice hands, good necks, dressed in seconds that still manage to look casual, but fashionable.

Mm.

Yeah, I love the dress sense. I love that when you're a student, it's time to really make a mark as an individual: whether it's showing off your public school history with your Gucci purse and burberry scarf, or displaying your "art student" status on your sleeve - or rather, your jeans, patched, slashed, dyed, and threadbare at the bottom where the length is precisely the length needed to scrape the floor and cover your heels.

I love that today, I saw a cute Asian guy stride down Oxford road wearing a top hat. Or that there's one girl who has an army-style crew cut across her head, save for the back, which has been allowed to grow long enough to touch her hips. I love the efforts made by another girl (art student, I bet) to match her various elaborate hair weaves with whatever colour outfit she's wearing. I love boys who dye their hair and wear nail varnish. I love girls with mohawks.

It makes me a little sad, too. Not just because it makes me long for a return to my student days (okay, I only graduated about 18 months ago, but I can still reminisce), that have become all glossy and shiny with nostalgia. But also because I know that once you leave university, all these individual fashions will fade, and become redundent.

Louise told me the other day that she'd been looking through her extensive wardrobe and realised she had very little to wear. Not because she has no clothes, because, like me, she has more than she can reasonably fit into her wardrobe. Rather, now that she's working in an accountants, increasingly meeting clients and putting on a 'professional' face, her choices have changed. She'll opt for a suit, and not that baby tee bearing a comedy slogan.

I've fallen victim as well. Last Saturday I splurged, inspired by the early Christmas gift from my dad and stepmum of a lovely tweed skirt and posh jacket. Now I own knee high pleather boots to match, and several sleeveless, fitted tops. None of the above are what I would naturally grab for when browsing through Top Shop. Pleather boots in particular. But a new job calls for a new outfit, and to be honest, I like my new look.

I like wearing heels, and make-up, and feeling smart and professional (even if I'm not). I like hiding my inner geek.

I feel almost like an adult.

Still... I did have to compensate a *little* at the weekend. On top of the boots, the skirt, the jacket, the tops, lies a fuzzy blue sweater bearing the image of the Sesame Street cast.

What?!

Listening to: Jay Semko

Quote:
Sheppard: �McKay will come up with something.�
McKay: �I will try, but despite what you all may think, I�m not Superman.�
Sheppard: �Was anyone seriously thinking that?�
Ford: �No, sir, never.�

<< >>